


That Blond Girl

by Steph2265



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:15:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29286654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steph2265/pseuds/Steph2265
Summary: Nyssa has a problem. Her tendency to keep dating people who are not single is the reason she keeps getting her heart broken. Because she's an idiot. However, the next person who grabs her interest also falls into the taken band camp. As well as an actual band camp.
Relationships: Nyssa al Ghul/Sara Lance
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for the long kinda paragraph at the end. Somehow it didnt separate like it was when i wrote it.

Her shift had ended, but the torment hasn't. Tommy Merlyn sprawls out on the opposite side of her with a shit-eating grin. The kind that makes me want to punch him in the stupid face. He works in the same position as me, though he tends to cover morning shifts, and I'm there in the afternoon.

"Told you so," he says, taking a sip of the coffee I had brewed for him, two minutes before she threw off her waitress apron and saved her feet from near death by four in heels. They now rest comfortable in Adidas sneakers.

Nyssa glares at her friend. Tommy is as tall as a viking , towering above everyone else I've ever known. He has the don't- fuck- with- me muscle type build on his arms and chest. His shoulders always look like they are threatening to burst out of his shirt. He's good looking. The kind of handsome that makes all the straight girls swoon, though he's taken. Has been for a year. Band music is playing in the background. On the stage of Cafe Fix, a group of three guys are murdering their instruments. The kind of people to find performing in their mom's garage until the neighbors slap a noise ban on them.

"I was convinced," she says morosely, though she knew she was kidding herself. She feels something gnawing at her stomach lining. Her heart already curses the day her now ex-girlfriend was born. She's also slightly disgusted with herself at having been led on for so long. You know, with the usual damning thoughts: How could have I been so blind? So naive? The self-loathing is a cacophony in her head. All the signs were there. Nyssa just chose to ignore them and walk straight into the badly disgusted pitfall ahead. "I was so convinced she loved me."

"Babe," Tommy said, "I told you from the beginning the she was just saying it to get you into the bedroom. I still can't believe you fell for it." Tommy adopted a dramatic, gloomy expression. "Oh Nyssa, I love you so much, we are meant to be. I promise you that things have been stale between me and my horrible, frigid and loveless wife. We're just in the process of divorcing. Soon, I will be free, to pursue my love with you; just," he clutched his hand to his chest, face contorted in agony, "keep waiting for me..."

"Fuck off," Nyssa mumbles, aggressively stirring her cappuccino. Parts foam slop out the sides.

"Turns out tonight he's celebrating his anniversary with his wife, my dear and deluded friend, you got played."

"You could be nicer to me about it," she says, both irritated and weary because she knows he's right. It doesn't make her feel her any better. "It just feels like I have terrible taste in women."

"Yea," Tommy agrees, "You do. But you're also a sucker for a sob story. If they give you a good one, you're in, hook, line, sinker."

"That's not true," she says, though, again, her mind is now whirring through all her past encounters, leading up to Alex, who had unceremoniously snubbed her in favor of the wife she was apparently divorcing. Thinking of her sends a fresh surge of hatred. Bitch. "It's not like you have an epic relationship, either. Doesn't your girlfriend want it to be just to keep things interesting?"

"Yeah. She does. So?"

"Well. Isn't that like her saying she plans to cheat on you?"

"No. It's far from the same thing as yours. Alex was seeing to you in secret, lying to you and her wife. My girlfriend and I are completely honest about our wants and desires."

"Sure," she says, disbelieving. She feels like a relationship like Tommy's is just too good to be true. She hopes it does work. She just can't see how it would. Not that she's the perfect judge of things, but hey.

Tommy holds up his arms magnanimously. "I'm off the market. Happily and forever."

"Technically, sort of on it," Nyssa disagrees thinking of the fact that he has the ability to sleep around.

Tommy smiles thinly, but doesn't bother to contradict her.

She sighs in relief when the awful trio on stage gets off, and then perks in interest when I see Sara Lance heading towards her, guitar neck poking above her head.

Nyssa lost count of the number of times Sara bought a coffee off of her, a treat on the house for the evening when she'd be working and Sara's performing with her girlfriend. Her hair is long, curvy, with golden strands. Her eyes appear dark in the lighting, but they're actually green. Nyssa likes the way they shine, and truthfully, she tends to give her a coffee on the house just so she can get the opportunity to talk to her first hand, and steal time with those eyes. She's a good looking woman, after all.

Sure, she may have been in a relationship at the time, but that doesn't mean she can't feast her eyes on very hot women, right? It's only bad if you act on it. At least, that's what that's what she tells herself. However, in her post-girlfriend state, her body is already reacting to her presence. Nyssa dated guys in the past but she thinks she's more into women these days. She knows for sure that she's attracted to Sara. I mean, come on. She's a stunner. Long blond hair like she belongs in summer. Irises that sparkles when she smiles. A curved, oval face that would make her a good front-woman for a band, though she prefers to play guitar.

"Down girl," Tommy says, noting Nyssa's expression. "You need to stop with the rebound urges. And honing in on people who are not single."

Sara, also known as Canary, with a brown and black acoustic guitar strung over her back, smiles at her. "Hey, Nyssa. Good to see you. You working or you off?" Her voice is deep and powerful, and Nyssa smiles like an insipid idiot at her.

"Off. And bitching to my best friend about my ex-girlfreind."

"And her awful taste in people," Tommy adds. 

"Bad breakup?" She says sympathetically. 

Nyssa nods, letting her hand creep over the table. She's already visualizing touching her arm, stirring the little hairs on it, imagining her shudder and rolling her eyes back. She wonders what it would feel like to have her on top of her, fingers buried inside as she sucks on her neck.

The thoughts make her shuffle in her seat, aware of an ache between her thighs. Nyssa bites her lip and takes a deep breath. Her thoughts are running away frantically and she know it's not good. Maybe it's because she's desperate her heart knows the kind of people it should go for- except for some reason, her heart really likes the non-singles. And imagining them in compromising positions.

"Yeah. Recent. Tommy's cheering me up. But it seems, knowing you're playing tonight, I'm already happier than I was."

She smiled innocently, but keeps eye contact with Sara. Tommy shoots Nyssa a vicious, warning stare, but Sara laughs. "Oh. That was smooth. Maybe it'll be my turn to get you a coffe instead." She winks, and Nyssa's stomach lurches. Then, Sara glances back at the sound of the stomping boots. "Alas, though, Felicity, approaches." She reached to quickly brush her knuckles, before straightening up. Her knuckles prickle up where she touched, and she feels fairly certain that when she gets back home, she's going to be doing something a little extra before sleep tonight.

Felicity Smoak, decked in tattoo sleeves of roses and serpents on her arm, with gothic black hair and makeup, strides to our table in platforms that boost her shortness height, and pulls her girlfriend away from us. "Come on. Let's start the performance. Hey." Although, the "hey" is meant for Nyssa and Tommy, Felicity barely flicks an eyelid their way and drags an apologetic looking Canary to the stage.

After a brief consultation with the announcer, they take the stage. Felicity at the mic and Canary to the left, fingers splayed on the guitar. Nyssa is watcheing her fingers, noting to herself how long they are, and also seeing the scowl on Felicity's face. Those fingers are perfectly long. She thinks for hitting her g-spot. She thinks she's quite talented at what she does. She bets she could make her scream.

"No," Tommy says. "Don't."

"I'm not doing anything," Nyssa protests.

"You're thinking it. Stop." She grumbles, but cease my fantasies of Sara for now. She knows Tommy is right, and it's partially why she wants him around her. He's a good moral compass when her emotions are all over the fucking place. She's still bitterly disappointed by Alex. And it haunts it taints her moments she did have with him, the nights they spent together. 

Bitch. She downs her coffee in one gulp, as Canary strums soft noted, and Felicity rocks the closer to the mic. Her high, raspy voice fills the room, rough but soothing.

The loss of love makes her want to scream. Always the same way, this place my heart is hurting I'll play the blame game, so that the pain ain't lurking The loss of love it makes me scream I'll brush the words away, act like my mind is certain Trapped in this self dismay, a web of my own making The love is in my darkest dreams And my heart is still here yearning Getting older still not learning Except how to fall These grasses aren't so green After all All of these things you say, I’d rather you just listen Though I can't convey what it is I'm truly missing You try to show the way but I keep on slipping, slipping Where’s the love I’m meant to see? I’ve searched so long for love to breathe, for the wings of a smile to set me free And my heart is still here yearning Getting older still not learning Except how to fall These grasses aren't so green After all Nyssa smiles, and get up with Tommy to order another drink. Nyssa love their lyrics, and she knew for a fact that Sara's the brains behind them. She often sings of searching for love – and they resonate somewhere deep inside, because she's searching, too. She's fucking up a lot, but she knows she won’t find it by sitting still. She has to believe that what she's doing is right. Well, she thinks. All things considered, she might as well enjoy this evening. There’ll be a time for me to sob her eyes out later. She sucks in air, forcing the tears beginning to well up in her eyes to back off. As if sensing her mood, Tommy wraps his arm around her shoulder, and they watch Felicity and Sara as they perform their next song. Tommy truly is a good friend, and the blunt way he tells the truth has always been something she needs. However, she still needs to step out at a point, because the mood of the music has dragged her to that hollow place. In the cool, crisp night air, with clouds obscuring the sky and the street lamps illuminating buildings and roads, Nyssa watches my breath unfurl in the air like dragon smoke. Her heart aches, and something prickles behind her eyelids. It's not that much to ask, is it, that she can have someone by her side, who isn't going to fuck her over, and loves her for who she is? The love is in my darkest dreams. Those lyrics ring true, as does not knowing anything except how to fall. She falls for people. And she loses them. It makes her wonder sometimes if she's just unlucky and falls for the wrong types, or if there's something she's doing that has made the relationships crumble apart. Quietly, she hums the words. She's a singer as well, though she dislikes her voice, because it has a high, girlish folk air. She wants to sound mature and gravelly, and not like a high-pitched country mouse. She exhales the last note, and stare up to the sky for a moment. There's no point in staying sad forever, though there's always a time to be sad. Taking a deep breath, Nyssa enters the Café and return to her friend, who promptly buys her a drink. Of course, watching Sara play helps to boost her mood, and gives her plenty of opportunities to feast on her visually. She tries to hide the obvious staring in front of her friend, so he doesn't think she's fixating on the guitarist. The beautiful, talented guitarist, who writes those lyrics, who sometimes makes an effort to catch her eye in the crowd, and smile. Later on, of course, she pictures Sara's form in her head. She sees those blue eyes, her long, light blonde hair, and those fingers brushing over her. She closes her eyes and touches her breasts under the bed covers, imagining that these are her hands. The temperature of the room rises as she tosses and turns under the sheets with a sigh, trying to capture the perfect images. She glides over her in her mind, as smooth as silk, and presses into Nyssa as she nibbles her ear, and tells her that she wants to fuck her senseless. She pictures her saying it with a low growl, her voice dipped into sultry, body igniting tones. She knows she shouldn't be doing this on a level, but her body and that tantalizing scent of her triggers arousal in her, and she wants to experiment further with this new thread of thought, having never been with a woman this beautiful before. Will it be soft? Rough? Will she be gentle when she touches her, or aggressive and pushy? Would she stare at her naked form, suck at her breasts and dig her blunt nails into my skin, before licking me dry? How would her tongue feel down there? She thinks with their legs tangled together, they would fit quite well. Perhaps they would be like a jigsaw puzzle, or their long hairs, brown and blonde, mix together in a light brown tint as they writhe under the sheets. She might fix her with those eyes that change color in the light, and assault her body in mounting desire, wanting nothing else but Nyssa in that moment. It's almost too easy when she finally dips in her wet core, and stroke at the tiny nub there. On bad days, it can take thirty or forty minutes to orgasm, and with her last girlfriend, just so she didn't feel bad, she pretended to get off, and then would take care of her issue later. With the vision of Sara in her head, and the thought of her sighs, and her voice – the feeling increases with every stroke, until she topples over the edge, and the warm flood of orgasm flows through. She knows she should feel guilty, for tending to matters in this way, but she doesn't. It's not cheating if she just thinks about it, right? She's justifying it for Tonny and herself. People dream about celebrities all the time. People indulge in their fantasies, and it does no harm. Why shouldn't Sara have a place in her hall of fame? Though Nyssa wouldn't mind having her touch her like this for real. Nyssa gets up, washes herself down, then clamber back into bed and drift into a contented sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

It's not until a few days later that Nyssa bumps into Sara again. She's been thoroughly drilled by Tommy to not go headhunting for human sized bed warmers, and to give her break-up some breathing space so she doesn't appear desperate to the one she dates next. He threatened to change his Netflix password if she ignored his advice, and that's a threat she take seriously.

Unfortunately, in all her attempts toward her new, saintly ways, she did not account for her secret girl-crush to show up at the book store. It took her completely by surprise, since she's been holding up this book that had a picture of a princess and a dragon on it, and it looked like the female dragon and princess got on really well. Like, really, really well. The suggestive content had her ogling the book blurb, and she turned the corner past the shelf that's almost twice the length of her, and screech to a halt when she spots Sara Lance perusing the stacks.

Her heart does this annoying lurch and forgets how to beat. Shit! She think. She's here. And she likes books. And Nyssa is holding some dragon princess lesbian erotica.

Slightly awkward, but not the end of the world. Should she approach? Say something cool like, “Hi, I didn't know you liked books,” and then lean against a shelf all casual like? She immediately halts the train of thought with a curse. No. If she does this, she'll be barred from Netflix. She'll never finish Stranger Things.

Sarah has a girlfriend, so she falls into the taken category. She also fits into her track record of dating taken people.

She needs to stop with the rebound urges. And honing in on people who are not single. Tommy's voice rings in her head like a death knell.

_Well, fuck. Exit strategy, implementing now._

She discreetly puts down the book, intending to make a graceful, speedy line for the door. Just as gracefully, Nyssa takes about three steps before she crashes her hip into a table choked with books, let out a squeak as she fall forward, and her hands instinctively lash out. Books are flung everywhere as she topples onto them.

Just to make things more entertaining, the table is a collapsible one that happens to split down the middle. Nyssa lies there in an ungainly heap, completely giving up on life and her futile dreams of a silent exit, since she's pretty certain that people on the other end of the street heard that shit. Apparently, she's the bull in the china shop. It's a wonder she hasn't died in a car accident or something yet.

Sara, of course, snaps her attention to the source of the noise, spots her lying there in a self-made pool of ruin, and strides over to help her whilst simultaneously laughing her ass off. Her cheeks are burning at this point, and both of them, under the murderous glare of the shop-owner, set the table upright, lock it into place, and shove the books back on.

“How?” she asks, wiping a tear of mirth from her cheek. “Just how?”

“I don't pay attention to things that are lower than chest height,” Nyssa says, noting that another dragon erotica has somehow found its way into her hands.

“That would make you a bad lesbian,” Sara quips, and Nyssa gapes at her, thrown by her flirtatious manner. Her vibrant blue irises are fixed on me, and her lips are slightly curled at the corners.

Shit. She's so hot. Sara has clearly done something with her hair today, as the long blonde strands have a glossy shine, perfectly framing her oval face. Again, her mind starts drifting to interesting places, picturing her in a different scenario, such as being chained to a bed, fully naked, with a feather tickler in my hand as Nyssa brushes over her pale skin.

“To be fair,” she admits, dodging eye contact because it's making her blush further, and her heart's doing some seriously weird palpitations, “The only things I've learned is how to crash my hips into a hard bit of wood.”

Sara grins wickedly at this statement.

“Sounds like you could do with a hand, then. A deft touch to make sure you don't... crash again.”

They're flirting. Oh sweet baby Jesus, they're flirting.

Tommy is going to kill her.

“I'm sorry for this, by the way,” she says, attempting to steer their ship back from dangerous waters, “It seems I'm always making a mess out of everything nowadays. Even walking through shops.”

“That was klutzy, for sure, but I wouldn't say you're making a mess of everything,” Sara disagrees, her face softening.

Nyssa's overactive imagination is already going places. She wonders if her cheeks are as soft as they look, and what her lips will taste like. She has a hourglass figure, whereas Nyssa's more boyish shaped, but she also hides her shape under a dark blue T.A.R.D.I.S hoodie and jeans. She can't even tell what cup size she is. “It's just frustrating,” she says. “Can't keep myself focused.”

“Maybe I can help with that. How about you join me for lunch shortly?” No, Sara. That is not going to help her with my focus. At all.

“I –” Nyssa begins to bluster, before Sara interrupts her, her friendly tone adopting a hint of steel. “I insist. I need to find a way to pay you back for all those complementary cups of Joe you've given me over the months.”

Her right long-fingered hand briefly strokes her shoulder, and a tiny shiver launches through her, right from where she touches to the pit of her stomach. _Oh_. After that she's putty.

Heart doing a staccato beat, she ends up at the nearby sushi bar with Sara, though she's never tried sushi before. Sara insists that it's worth the experience, though the idea of eating raw fish balled up in sticky rice hasn't been something that appeals to Nyssa. Or that weird wasabi paste stuff.

They sit at a circular sushi bar where the food revolves around in little platters, and they can pull them off the conveyor belt, depending on what they want to try out. Nyssa bravely commits herself to a salmon roll, and Sara and Nyssa exchange casual, probing questions about one another. Such as what their favorite bands are (Nyssa's is The Levellers, hers is Within Temptation) and best superpower (Obviously flying, duh. She chose mind control like a boring person.)

Then, as she's stuffing a cucumber and tuna paste roll into her mouth, she says, “You know, I was thinking, Nyssa. What are you doing with your life? What plans do you have?”

Nyssa's first reaction is to get massively offended, and a faint flush creeps into her cheeks. She's been working in Café Fix for almost two years, and it's not the first time someone has asked her that question, along with: “You're too smart to be working here, why haven't you gone to college?” or “You can sing, right? Why don't you do something with that?”

“Why do you ask?” Her voice comes out stiffly.

Sara senses her discomfort, and hastens with her explanation. “Look, I'm sorry if that's not a question you like to be asked. I didn't mean it offensively – I just meant what sort of plans or dreams do you have at some point? I used to wait tables myself, until the gigs kept coming. I was always hoping they would take off some day, you know? So, what about you?”

At this, her mind blanks for a second. Truthfully, she's never been one to know what she's wanted. She's known things she like to do, such as singing, becoming a writer, being an artist – but she'll get easily discouraged because there's thousands wanting the same dreams as her. And those dreams don't get the bills paid, if you're not instantly scooped up as a child prodigy, or taken into college on a scholarship. She is neither bad nor exceptionally good at anything – and it's a problem. But, staring into Sara's gleaming blue eyes, a bold impulse takes over me. “I wouldn't mind trying a hand at what you do. Singing. Not guitar playing.”

“Singing?” One of Sara's eyebrows raise. “You can do that?”

“I've dabbled,” she says, downplaying the fact she had singing lessons once a week for four years before she stopped. “Then exam pressure came along, and then my dad ended up in the hospital because of cancer, and then I started working – and I didn't pick it back up. Still sing in the shower, though.”

At Sara's wide-eyed expression,NyssaI adds, “Dad's okay. He got chemo and he's back to work, though he looks weird with stubble hair.”

“That's good,” Sara says, relieved. She feels a tiny bit guilty for dropping big news like that unannounced onto her lap, but happy at the same time to witness her concern.

Nyssa's manipulating her, and she knows it. She wanst her to like her, and to keep hanging out. Sara also seems to hold interest in her, despite her official status as Felicity's girlfriend. She wonders if it's anything like Tommy's relationship, and then she'lI picture Felicity's scowling, black makeup smeared face, and decide that girl would likely enjoy filleting her if she ever got the chance.

Sara then leans closer to her in the bar, as she tentatively reaches for a second plate with raw shrimp on the top of a rectangular sushi roll. “Well, Nyssa. I've got some free time if you do. Why not come over to mine and practice your singing with my guitar? I'd like to hear for myself.” She gives a dazzling smile, and her already gooey insides melt further, along with the conviction that Tommy is probably already planning her funeral.

Her leg bumps into hers, and it stays there, and Nyssa is hyper aware of the fact that she's pushed onto her knee. She's also hyper aware when again, with a sultry smile upon her lips, she brushes her fingers across the top of her hand, running them over her wrist, stirring the little hairs there. Her smile is killing her. It speaks volumes of what she plans to do with Nyssa, and she knows for a fact that she's not imagining things. This girl is attracted to her. Possibly not as attracted as Nyssa is to her, because she's gorgeous, but something is definitely happening here.

She knows they are in a restaurant, and people are watching, but Nyssa wants her to continue moving that arm, and she does, making her fingers glide to her shoulder, runs over her cheeks and across her breasts.

“Are you okay, there?” She says, and she glares at her. Does it look like she's fucking okay? Because she already knew this was a bad idea, because being in her proximity gives fuel to her imagination, sparks up the shards of desire deep inside – but already, she just wants her to take her, restaurant or not.

Sara leans forward, and whispers in Nyssa's ear, “I look forward to hearing you... sing back at my home.” Something sharp nibbles at her earlobe, along with a hot haze of air, and Nyssa's shudder, electricity snaking inside her, hitting everything. It feels so good, that she closes my eyes, a drunken sensation swimming over her, as she takes the opportunity to close her lips on Nyssa's neck, and exhale air slowly. Her leg twitches against hers, and she curls her hands into fists.

There's someone watching them, and she wears an expression of disgust, but for some reason, that turns Nyssa on more, knowing that they're not hidden. Nyssa does, however, think that maybe too much public display of affection might get them kicked out. So, reluctantly, Nyssa withdraws from Sara's affections, removing her teasing lips from her neck, breathing heavily. Nyssa is a little dazed, and willing to let her do anything to her at this point. Sara scrutinizes her with those striking eyes of hers, bright blue in the restaurant light, and the gleam of sun through the windows. She's exhilarated, and adjusts her knee more, until it's pressing directly between Nyssa's thighs, just above her arousal spot. Sara knows what she's doing. So, because Nyssa is an idiot, she ends up following Sara back to her home.

She lets her know as much that her best friend is not impressed with the idea of her going home with a pretty woman, and Sara simply answers with, “Well, you're coming over to practice singing with me. No harm in that, right?” Her twinkling eyes, however, suggest a different story. The kind of story that gives those little stomach flutters. It doesn't help when she adds, “And, well, if anything extra did happen... you don't always have to tell.”

_Ah, fuck me, Sara._

You need to stop being so irresistible. Sara's apartment is neat and ordered, not the messy sprawl I anticipated for someone who lives a “musical” lifestyle. She doesn't have much in her house, really – no funny ornaments on the shelves, or empty wrappers on the tables. She does, however, have a humongous bookcase with a lot of books. Nyssa spots Terry Prachett, Neil Gaiman, Brandon Sanderson and Lois McMaster Bujold, nodding in approval at these amazing and prolific authors.

Nyssa considers the dragon erotica she has tucked in her backpack, and feels a little self-conscious.

Sara tells me to make herself at home, and takes her guitar which is leaning by the side of a leather sofa. Nyssa does some quiet vocal exercises, making sure she doesn't sound like a drowning cat. Her hands shake noticeably, and she sits on them as Sara checks the tuning of her guitar, appearing so at home with holding the instrument, that Nyssa wants to take a picture of her as she tweaks a string.

“What song will you try out?” Sara again fixes Nyssa with those intense eyes. She's mesmerized by her attention, and also by the hint of bare flesh she displays just above her hip line. She's taken off her combat boots, which reveal panda patterned socks, which makes Nyssa smile. The socks are adorable, and remind her of her hedgehog ones back home.

Nyssa is continuing enjoying the presentation of flesh offered, wondering how smooth it might feel on her palms.

Presently, Nyssa remembers that she asked her a question. “Uh,” she says, thinking for basic chord tunes, “Do you know anything from Florence and the Machine?”

Sara shakes her head. “Felicity doesn't like her, or enjoys trying to sing in that range. You're a soprano, then?”

“Yeah,” Nyssa answers. She chews her lip, at a loss for what to try.

“What about any of our set tunes? Like Web of Lies.” Sara begins to demonstrate the first heart rending notes of the melody that Nyssa had heard them perform last Friday, and she closes her eyes to listen.

“Yeah. I can try that. I... kind of know most of your songs.” And what she means by that is she knows all of them. By heart. Lyrics and all. She's not a stalker. She just like the songs.

“Awesome.” Sara is excited as she restarts the tune, and Nyssa is so anxious, that when it's her cue, she squeaks the first two lines, and hits one terrible off-note. Nyssa slipped into embarrassed silence.

“It's okay,” Sara says, soothing Nyssa like a troubled animal. “Take a few deep breaths. It will help you to be less nervous. Don't restrict your vocals so much, either. Remember, breathe from the diaphragm.”

“Yes, mother,” she mutters, still crimson as she lets out a trilling laugh. “Give me ten seconds, then again.”

Forcing the knot out of her lungs and stomach, Nyssa once more utter the notes of Web of Lies. This time, she doesn't sound like a gargoyle, though she sings the tune two octaves higher than Felicity's, in her typically girlish soprano. As Sara keeps playing, and Nyssa doesn't stumble over the words and neither does she stop her to tell her how awful Nyssa is, her confidence grows.

Dipping through the chorus, and finally grinding the song to a natural end, Sara stops strumming. “Girl, you can sing!” she exclaims. “That was incredible!”

Sara drops her guitar and hurries over to where Nyssa is sitting on the sofa, and she shakes her by the arms. “I was so scared you'd be awful when you started with that horrible scratchy wailing noise, but you surprised me! That was so good!”

“If you keep praising me like this, I'm gonna die of embarrassment,” She says, grinning and blushing at the same time.

Their eyes meet, brown to blue, and Nyssa sees hers are fully dilated. The glow of excitement makes her beautiful, and her hair is splayed about her cheeks as if blown in a strong wind. Jolts of electricity ripple through, and she feels the beginnings of a lady boner.

 _Oh no_ , Nyssa thinks.

She's frozen like a rabbit caught in headlights, and she wants nothing else but for Sara's lips to touch hers in that moment. She's hopeless. She knew this was going to happen. She knew she wanted to come here and have things develop into something more. Sara has been in her mind often. It doesn't help when Sara, having fallen silent in the charged atmosphere shared between them, reaches to tuck a strand of dark hair behind her left ear. Her fingers brush her cheek, soft and warm, and a shiver rakes her spine.

They continue staring for a few seconds longer, as if both of them are waiting for the other to make the first move.

At this distance, her body odor is strong, and Nyssa catches whiffs of strawberry and mown grass, both for her the scents of summer. She is a summery person, with that blonde hair, and Nyssa is thinking to herself that yellow and brown goes well together, and imagine what their hairs will look like sprawled out on the bed, as they lie next to each other.

 _Fuck it_ , she thinks. She's here in front of her, and she's not going to let her get away. Nyssa makes the first move, pressing her lips into Sara's, and yanks her into her, so she's sprawled on top, and they are attacking each other's lips. Bolts of arousal ripple from Nyssa into Sara, and she gasps into her mouth as she wedges a knee once more between her thighs, and presses hard into her crotch. Nyssa lets out a moan, and she growls, now burying her face into Nyssa's neck, licking, kissing and lightly sucking at the skin.

The sensation is intense, sending her mad with desire, and she claws at her hair as she pushes her knee into Nyssa. Sara grins as she feels Nyssa scratching at her, then pushes her back, using her strength to overpower me, and without much ceremony, unbuttons her jeans, so her hand can plunge in there, and the suddenness of it shocks and excites Nyssa, and she's sopping wet from her taking charge.

Asserting dominance remains one of Nyssa's biggest fantasies, though she likes picturing herself as the one taking charge. She likes being in that position, but Sara on top of her, her voice husky and alluring, and her hand delving into the gap of Nyssa's jeans, worming past her panties to touch her core makes Nyssa shudder.

She wastes no time, and her fingers collect the pooling wetness down there, and slides inside. Nyssa groans and opens her legs wider, and she adjusts herself so that Sara's long fingers are buried to the hilt. She expects her to start thrusting, like a guy would, but she doesn't. Instead, she makes a beckoning motion with her two fingers, and pushes against the inner walls. The sensation is insane.

She's hitting Nyssa's g-spot, and she doesn't think she's ever thought about pleasuring herself in this way before, or that she can manage the angle solo. She certainly can, and she does it with aplomb, tapping her g-spot. Nyssa can't help it. She gasps and throws her head back, no longer able to wrest control from her, too consumed by pleasure and chemicals to bother doing anything else other than to let her guide my body to climax.

Nyssa doesn't know how she does it, but every word she whispers, every kiss and touch serves to drive her crazy, begging for more – and Sara complies by speeding up the pace of her fingers as they squish into my g-spot, and something builds up inside. It's stronger, far more intense than her masturbation of a few days ago, and when the orgasm finally unleashes, it's a monster that sinks into Nyssa's bones and leaves her breathless with bliss and pleasure.

Sara eases out of her and does up her button, before staring at Nyssa with one eyebrow raised. “Are you okay down there?”

“Shut up.” In a few more moments, Nyssa is sitting up again, and she's willing to start exploring Sara, though she appears content to just tease her about how fast Nyssa came.

Then, the door bangs open.

They leap apart as Felicity storms into the room, boots clomping on the wooden floors. Instantly, the Goth girl's face goes from neutral to scowl.

“What's she's doing here?” Felicity jabs a finger at Nyssa, and her eyes examine the black roses on her arms. “The waitress?”

“Felicity, can you knock? Please? This is my house,” Sara retorts. Nyssa doesn't see any alarm or shame in Sara's features, though she's struggling to hold back a burning slash of shame.

Barely five minutes before, they'd just finished one venture into sex, and then the girlfriend turns up. It's one way to bring her soaring high into a crashing low.

“That's never been an issue before,” Felicity shoots back.

“It has. I've told you this. Millions of times. You keep ignoring me, and it's pissing me off.”

“Sorry,” she says, not sounding sorry at all. Felicity then directs a filthy stare at me.

“Make the waitress go. I've something to tell you about you know what.” Felicity's abrupt dismissal leaves Nyssa fuming on top of her shame. Does she have to act like she's her worse enemy? Nyssa knows she's not the nicest person around, but she swears that this girl has had it in for her from the start. Nyssa doesn't think she saw anything or heard anything, but maybe her expression is enough to warn her to her intentions.

Nyssa gets up to leave, even as Sara says, “Knock it off. There's no need to be such a bitch.”

“Thanks for letting me jam out,” she says to Sara. Nyssa decides not to mention about the sushi, thinking that it probably won't help with Felicity's attitude, since she probably already expects something is up. Part of Nyssa wonders if she'll get away with this. Part of her hopes. Because Nyssa wants to see Sara again. She wants to feel her on her again.

“No problem. I'll see you on Friday.” Sara goes to see her out, and apologizes to her, before she closes the door.

Before Nyssa is even down the steps, she hears them both at it in a screaming argument. Though her heart swells at the idea of meeting Sara again on Friday, despite the serious explaining she'll need to do with Tommy, it sinks at the idea that she'd just caused them to have a massive argument.

Nyssa doesn't think Felicity would ever be okay with them hanging out together, regardless of whether they were doing the nasty behind her back – or even if Sara tells her straight off the bat. The bad thing is about Nyssa is that she doesn't care. She wants to keep flirting, and seeking out more intimate moments. She wants to see where it goes. And, most of all, she's curious about what it will feel like wrapped around her fingers, how she must taste down there.

Part of Nyssa even has a hope that maybe their relationship is so bad that they break up. They don't really sound like a couple right now, with the way they hiss venom at each other. What kind of person does that make her? Certainly not a good one.

On the bus back home, Nyssa gets out her awkward dragon erotica, and turns to the first page. Nothing particularly erotic happens in the first chapter, and when she arrives back home, to her dismay, she realizes she's still horny. There's only one way to deal with that – and she handles it in the shower.

It's annoying, in a way. She's not usually this horny so often, but right now, her mind and body can't cope with the new influx of emotions, of what Sara is making her feel. It's out of her control, and she has to physically squash Tommy's warnings, just so she doesn't end up guilt tripping herself into a ball of misery.

Nyssa doesn't want to be in that place. She doesn't want to think about Tommy's disappointment, or Felicity's accusing stare. All she wants to think about is Sara there with her, by her, inside her.

Her impromptu singing session with her as well makes Nyssa reflect on starting up singing again, just so she can have more opportunities to sing with her, to make her look at her with those amazed eyes, and congratulate her on how she sounds.

Nyssa is a bad person, really, but she also knows she's human. The heart wants what it wants.


	3. Chapter 3

It's Friday again, and Nyssa finished the book (it didn't have any dragon erotica, it just happened to be a misleading blurb, which disappointed her more than it should have). She also informed Tommy about going over to Sara's house, even though she didn't want to tell him at first.

“Did you two have sex?” Tommy gives Nyssa a disapproving stare as they linger in the backroom of the Café.

“No!” She protests, and let out a huff of annoyance. “Not that I wouldn't complain about it or anything, but no.” Only a slight pang of guilt goes through Nyssa for the blatant lie. Tommy doesn't catch her out on it. He sighs, clasping her on the shoulder, hard enough for her to grimace since he has a monster grip, the kind that could probably crush bones. For a second, Nyssa thinks he's going to squish her to a pulp. “You do know I'm only giving you this advice to protect you, and not because I'm being spiteful, right?”

Maybe he caught onto more than Nyssa expected. He's not a complete idiot, and he does know her inside out. Nyssa nods as she ties on her apron, and tuck her hair into a tight ponytail. Nyssa's shoulder throbs from where he squeezed, and she can't but think that sometimes she's more lucky than she realizes, that they had chosen to stop hitting each other on the heads with their Hot Wheels cars in Kindergarten, to decide that might be better off as friends.

“Not to mention that you have that slight issue of going for the taken ones. I know I can't stop you – but just be careful. And talk to me. Okay?”

“Okay,” Nyssa replies, flashing him a grateful smile. She's also glad he's not mentioned about locking his Netflix account. She's two episodes away from the end of Stranger Things. She would have begged on bended knee for him to forgive her. He will find out, sooner or later. It's just hoping there will be an appropriate time to tell him.

It's not long into Nyssa's shift for when the acts start. She's serving drinks to what seems like a boisterous crowd tonight, and sweat beads up on my brow from the effort. It dies down after the tables are packed up, and the staff are allowed some breathing space. The first two acts don't do much to the blood. There was a girl, overweight, with an acoustic guitar, who sat with the guitar positioned over her lap, and sang Someone Like You by Adele. She sounded nothing like Adele, and her voice wavered throughout the performance, but she held promise, and Nyssa could tell she likely sang really well when not quavering in fear. The second act was another band straight from mom's garage, trying to sing Duality by Slipknot.

What is with these bands thinking that mashing their instruments randomly is supposed to be good music? She thinks, watching as the lead singer moshes his ludicrously long and unwashed hair. Nyssa can't help her disdain, because she's never found that type of music appealing at all. Some metalheads in the crowd whip along to it however, holding their second and fifth fingers up, with the rest folded back.

Sara Lance comes into the Café late, which doesn't give Nyssa the customary time to sneak up and slide her a drink on the house. Nyssa's notices, with a huge jump of her heart, that's she's alone when she checks in, and doesn't head to the stage, even though she should have started her set five minutes ago.

Tommy and others who are used to seeing Sara and Felicity perform together also take heed.

“Think she's running late?” Tommy hisses to her. Nyssa's shrug, wondering if the argument they erupted into at my leaving has anything to do with Sara being on the stage alone. Guilt slivers inside.

The crowd at this point are getting restless. There's a few jeers and shouts, and the stage manager dashes to the staff who are on not serving. “Can any of you do stand-up? We need to keep the crowd from throwing things whilst miss Lance gets things sorted.”

Most of them instantly start to protest, but Tommy leaps for it, and says, “I'll do it. Let me scare them with every single pun that I know. Five minutes tops.”

Tommy clambers onto the stage, grabs the mic, and begins his awful, dreadful puns that have the crowd groaning and laughing at the same time. Sara Lance, with a mix of panic and despair on her face, spots Nyssa, and she knows in that moment she doesn't have a plan, and five minutes isn't going to be enough for her to gather herself together. Nyssa tells the staff that she'll go and see what the issue is with the act, and she makes her way to Sara, pulling her aside.

“What's wrong? Where's Felicity?”

Sara wrings her hands in frustration, before adjusting the guitar strap on her shoulders. “She ditched me! She ditched the act, and me. She got the chance for a solo recording act. She went back on what we said we'd do when we started gigging. That we wouldn't fuck each other over if it came to that.”

Nyssa thinks back to when Felicity discovered her in the apartment with Sara. “This isn't anything to do with me as well, is it? Because... you know. Something did kind of happen between us. And I don't know if she caught out on that.”

“What? No.” Sara scrunches her eyebrows, baffled and annoyed at Nyssa's statement. “It's nothing to do with you. Why would you even think that?”

Nyssa's cheeks heat up. She didn't think that was an unreasonable assumption, and she blusters in defending herself. “I don't know. I just thought – I heard you guys arguing. And she's always snappy to me, and you're always nice to me, so I wondered if she might have heard something. Or whatever.”

Sara lets out a snort as they both sit down onto a pockmarked square table. “You're not that important to her.” Upon seeing Nyssa's distraught expression, she hastily adds, “Nobody is important to Felicity except Felicity. She doesn't care about anything. I could sleep with a goldfish and she wouldn't blink an eye. This was a long time coming. I'm surprised she didn't leave months sooner. Because she used to say a lot that I was holding her back.”

Nyssa switches from cursing herself inwardly about jumping to conclusions like a suicidal frog, to immediate concern for Sara. “Why would she say that? You're really talented.”

In response, Sara shrugs, eyes downcast. Nyssa doesn't like seeing her sad. Despite her tough words, she's obviously off kilter from the whole business, and looks on the verge of tears. “Look. Just perform by yourself. Play some rad rifts. Stun the crowd into insensibility with your solos. We'll love it.”

“I perform better with a partner. I'm no good just standing on the stage by myself.” Sara hesitates, biting her lip. “I've got it!” she then exclaims, one moment staring at the table between them, the next pointing at Nyssa.

“You can sing. You know our set songs, right?”

“I,” Nyssa mumbles, a bolt of panic sliding through her. “Um.”

“I've heard your voice!” Sara reached forward in earnest, grabbing Nyssa's hands and holding them tight. She shivers at the contact, and again takes in the scent of mown grass and ripe strawberries. Sara ends up flicking Nyssa's gaze to her lips as she runs a tongue over them. “You can do it. I know you can.”

Nyssa lets out a squeak of terror in response. The thought of going up and singing in front of strangers with songs that she's only sung in the shower is making her want to faint.

Sara looks at her, excited and imploring at the same time.

 _Well, fuck_ , Nyssa thinks. No way can she resist that puppy face. Plus, she does want to remain on her good side. For reasons. Sara has Nyssa hooked, line and sinker.


	4. Chapter 4

After telling her boss and the other staff members what's up, Nyssa clambers onto the stage behind Sara, and Tommy examines her in surprise. He blocks the microphone for a second. “Nyssa. You're taking up singing again?”

"Apparently."

Tommy grins, before taking charge of the mic. “Looks like our music act is here, with a slight change of singer. I think you guys will be in for a treat tonight! Incidentally, did you hear about the girl who lost her left arm and left leg? She's 'alright' now.”

“Fuck off!” Someone in the audience yelled, along with groans and laughter. “Be gone with you!”

He leaves Nyssa to the lions, and Sara gives her an encouraging smile. “Let's start with Web of Lies. Remember. Deep breath. Calm. You can do this. And thank you. Seriously.”

“I regret this,” Nyssa answers. Sara winks at her, then starts strumming the first notes. Hesitantly, aware of all the eyes upon Nyssa, she begins singing. At first, she's slow and shaky, and she knows it, but Sara steps closer to her, exaggerating deep, relaxed breaths, and Nyssa gradually builds confidence throughout the song. She ends up glancing over the audience's heads a lot. Tommy, meanwhile, is now working Nyssa's share of the tables, which gives her another reason to add to the list of why Tommy is her bestest friend ever, and at the end of Web of Lies – Nyssa's fallen into perfect harmony with Sara's playing. Her voice is clear, high, with that country air that she dislikes about it, but the crowd falls into silence as they finish Web of Lies, and then start another crowd pleaser – Truth of Love.

You say that love can feel like the worse thing in the world

But it's better to be loved then not loved at all

Because it's not love that causes all the pain It's the loss of it,

the death of it that drives us insane...

I'll be here for you Like you're here for me

The only thing that's true Is you'll be the death of me...

By the time the last song finishes, and Sara announces it's the end of the set, the crowd applaud rapturously. Tommy holds one thumb up from the audience, Sara is beaming at Nyssa, and Nyssa is grinning from ear to ear.

“They like me!”

“They should. You were fucking brilliant,” Sara says, eyes sparkling. “That was perfect. I'm in love with that voice.”

Those words thrill Nyssa. Squealing happiness, as Sara puts her guitar down Nyssa catches her in a rough embrace. She staggers backwards, before stabilizing and laughing as she hugs her back. For a moment, Nyssa doesn't register the press of her body into hers, but when she does, Nyssa finds herself instantly getting turned on, and hastily backs off, before letting out a laugh. She can't believe she sung in front of all these people. What's more, they even seem to like their dynamic. Nyssa has to finish the rest of her shift, which luckily is only thirty minutes, and Sara walks her to her car.

“Thanks again,” she says, wrapping an arm around Nyssa's neck, “You killed it back there. How come you've never sung in public before, though? You have an amazing voice.”

“Honestly? It's because I don't think I'm good enough. I don't like my singing voice. It's really immature and I sound like one of those hick country singers who chew grain.”

“That's ridiculous.” Sara stares at her, utterly serious. “I don't believe that on so many levels. You're good. And you should know it.” Sara brushes her on the cheek, and gives an admiring, satisfied curl of her lips.

The flattery sends Nyssa off balance, along with her entrancing features. Anyone who stares at her like that whom she has the slightest interest in will never fail to make the frogs in her stomach jump. Fluttering is too tame for the sensation that conjured up inside. Her mind starts running away with the possibility of their lips contacting, of her maybe shoving her into her car across the back seat, the leather creaking around them as they wrestle with each other, and rip at one another's clothes. Nyssa's had car sex once, and it was significantly less sexy than the scenario she's imagining at the moment. It helps that Sara, with her blonde hair, and her small, likely slender figure is the kind of person who you might expect as one of the hot girls that Dean picks up from Supernatural for his one night stands.

Yes, Nyssa likes her T.V shows.

It's not long before Sara manages to charm Nyssa into heading back to her place for a few celebratory drinks – there was no car sex, but she came dangerously close to distracting Nyssa a few times when she was driving, until Nyssa needed to tell her to stop if she didn't want to die. She grinned at that but complied, taking her teasing hand off Nyssa's thigh.

Nyssa tells herself that she's doing this as well because she suspects she could do with some company, and that Nyssa wants to continue the magic of this evening with her – which is a nice cover up for the fact that she wants for them to do the horizontal tango once again.

Nyssa hears Tommy's voice at the back of her head as she parks outside her apartment. No. Just no. Don't do it, Nyssa.

Sara cracks open a beer from her fridge and hands it to Nyssa, and they spend a good hour talking about the performance, and what a utter bitch Felicity is. Nyssa was right about Sara needing to talk to someone, which makes her motives less despicable. Sara needs to get it off her chest, she can tell, and her ears are near deafened by the ranting she has in place for the girl who dumped her.

Nyssa can't help but notice that they're gradually edging closer and closer on the leather sofa, having started at opposite ends, until her diminutive form is cuddled right up to Sara's small body, hidden underneath a dark hoodie. They've had more than a few drinks, and her barriers are lowered. So, apparently, are Sara's.

“You're amazing, Nyssa, you know that? You're a good singer... a good looker... sometimes you make funny jokes... and sometimes you fall onto collapsible tables.”

“You're never gonna let that go, are you?” she huffs, though she giggles as well. It was pretty fucking funny, even though it was probably one of the more humiliating things to happen in her short existence on this earth.

“Nyssa.” Jordy frowns, taking a deep breath, and touching the side of Nyssa's cheek with her hands. “Do you like me?”

Nyssa feels suddenly, utterly sober. _What does she say to this? Yes? If she says yes, what would it mean? Would it be like a declaration of love? Does she love her? Does she want that? Is it too soon? Is she on the rebound, like me? Is she even with Felicity, anymore?_

Nyssa's brain is overloading with the conflict of desire and moral integrity, of which she doesn't seem to have much of. “Yes,” she finally whispers, swallowing a lump of nervousness.

Sara leans closer, so that her breath tickles Nyssa's lips. “The first time, we were a little rough, weren't we? We didn't have enough time to discover... everything.”

Nyssa shakes her head mutely. With a devious curl of her mouth, Sara closes the distance, and their lips press together. Nyssa closes her eyes, fuzzy from the drinks and arousal, and loops her fingers into her blonde hair, pulling her nearer as they begin to explore one another's mouths, sharing secrets with their lips.

She's soft, and she smells good. She's gentle, and it leaves an ache in Nyssa's heart, on top of the fluctuating lust that burns within.

No, stop. She's fucked things up once. Nyssa knows she's dating Felicity. Why must she always give in to desire?

Panicking, Nyssa withdraws from Sara's lips, and gasps, “Oh my God. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I seem to be abnormally attracted to people who are not single, and what I just did you to there was possibly the bitchiest thing I can think of. Like, I'm interfering with you and Felicity and I'm aware of this, but I just want to keep feeling you against me. You're amazing. Damn it.”

Sara, blinking at Nyssa's gush of words, holds up a hand and laughs. “Whoa. First, pretty sure I was the one who kissed you here . So don't blame yourself for that. Second, me and Felicity are finished. It's over. I'm totally available. Third,” she says, holding up three fingers, “this is hardly the time to start freaking out, when we've already gone so far. I wouldn't want you getting buyer's remorse around me.” This last one is accompanied by a wicked grin.

Nyssa stares at her for a moment. _She broke up with Felicity? Officially? She's not a treacherous idiot who makes people cheat on their lovers with her?_

 _What planet am I on?_ In the meanwhile, whilst Nyssa's thoughts whirl chaotically, Sara's waiting patiently for a response.

Nyssa's answer is to pull her back to her, and engage in a deepest, soul-searching kiss.


End file.
